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Jesus Trejo


Monterrey, NL, MX

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A Hand In A Shutting Door


Jesus Trejo

Attraction between two bodies,
love or lust makes no difference.
Passion and instincts come into play,
love and lust are only in the way
like a hand in a shutting door.
Quietly inside two seeds collide,
they crash, mix and unite.
Quietly inside a life grows,
it expands, extends and multiplies
like a swarm of ants on a drop of sweet.
A miracle, a new life,
an innocent being with an innocent soul,
depending on his mother for protection,
depending on his father for support,
depending on both for survival.
A fragile gift from God,
a defenseless but unique formation,
an identity that will never be again.
A baby that would cry
for the least of attention.
A little girl that would run
into her own aspirations and dreams
from a toy to a book to a family.
A man that would die old
leaving behind a current of knowledge
with all his fantasies fulfilled.
A person, a life, a miracle.
But his rights were taken away,
his mother chose for him
what he had no idea of,
thinking he would be safe
as he layed growing, quietly inside.
Because he was quiet he had no say,
he was seen as an error, a mistake,
a growing cancer of unwanted life,
he was only in the way
like a hand in a shutting door.
He was disposed of, discharged, thrown away
as a byproduct of intercourse
like a used condom of flesh,
whose heart stopped beating,
who was never given attention,
never ran into her dreams,
never fulfilled his fantasies,
never died old but did die
when on the condom the knot was tied,
when it fell into the waste basket
as from his mother he was scraped away,
torn away from what he thought was protection,
what he thought was support and survival.
I guess I was wrong,
my parents should know better then me,
they have learned more than me,
they have lived longer then me.
I was only in the way
like a hand in a shutting door.